Tag: sick

So, technically it’s not 4.22, it’s 4.23, but I am drunk. My fiancée and I went out with a friend and we got into an argument over exes, but honestly, that is the last thing I want to talk about right now. I’m sick as hell right now. I have a raging headache from my sinuses, not even from the beer. I can’t hear out of my left ear and I just laid down in bed at 2:45am to hear my fucking rooster start crowing. I swear I might wring his damn neck tonight. Holy shit.

Fucking chicken.

Anyway, idk. I don’t have much to say right now worth writing. I’ll write tomorrow. G’night!

I feel like I am not myself. My head is heavy and I am dizzy. I hate being sick. This whole week has been about not feeling well. There’s so much I’ve wanted to do. Get in the pool, work on the chicken coop some more, play board games. Anything would be better than this, really.

My fiancée and I have been watching Shameless on Netflix. It’s such a good show and all of the actors are superb. We are in season 5 right now.

I originally started this blog because I was hoping to make money from it, which doesn’t seem to be the case just yet.

I forgot to buy deodorant when I was at the store yesterday.

We currently live with my fiancée’s family and we plan to build an apartment in the backyard. Eventually were going to rent it out and buy our own house. I can’t wait to get started, but it does cost money and plus it’s getting pretty hot outside. I’m not sure how we’re going to build it in the heat and I don’t want to shell out over $20k for the labor when we can just do it ourselves. I know it sounds like some people’s worst nightmare, to live with their in-laws, but it’s great to me. We’re very family oriented. Her dad has become my biggest father figure that I’ve ever had in my life which I didn’t realize how badly I needed one until I met him.

My dad died when I was 14. My mom woke me up in the middle of the night and told me my uncle had just called and said he was in a car accident. At that point, I was thinking we could go visit him right away and I pictured him hooked up to monitors, maybe some broken ribs, but overall he would be fine. She started to cry and said he didn’t make it. I felt my blood turn to ice, my entire body just gave up on trying to sit up and I collapsed into my bed. My entire world, as I knew it, had come to a screeching halt. Gravity seemed to have tightened its grip on me and oxygen escaped the room, suffocating me. We hadn’t spoken in over a year and we were arguing. My last words to him were something to the tune of “go to hell” when he asked if I would come visit him over email. I wish I could take back every word. He didn’t deserve that. The reason I wrote the email to begin with was because of this psychiatrist I had, I think her name was Mickey. She told me to write to him everything I felt and don’t hold back, so I didn’t and now it’s my biggest regret in life. I know we would probably have gotten along great now since I’m older and not as immature as I was. He lived in Nicaragua and my family ended up having the funeral before I could get there, which I think was within 2 days. Their reasoning? They didn’t think I was coming. That was and will be the biggest disappointment in my life. I got to go to the memorial service though, which was okay, I guess. I’ll never forget how empty, cold, and alone I felt. A part of me died with him that night. There were times when I would be on my knees with a rosary or a statue of Mary begging for a sign of him. I don’t even believe in God, but I was willing to do whatever it took to be in his presence again. I would cry on the floor until my eyes were swollen and I was drooling and my nose was running everywhere. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life and it always will be.

When I was 6, I had this next door neighbor who used to be my best friend. His parents would leave their garage door open about 5″ or 6″ for the cats to run in and out. He dropped a baseball or something and it rolled out. I stuck my head under to try to reach it and my head was too big to fit. He ended up pushing the button and instead of going up, it went down. I ended up needing stitches and I remember the nurses holding me down while he stitched my head since I guess they were worried I had a concussion. I remember I used to have nightmares that I pushed my head through and the garage door came down on my neck. There’s actually still a dent in the garage door from where my head was. Anyway, I have a scar from where my hair starts right above my temple to almost the back of my head to remind me of the stupidity of my younger days. The whole point of that story is that losing my dad hurt worse than the garage door almost crushing my head.

Today is the toker’s holiday and unfortunately (or fortunately) I’m not cool enough to be apart of it. I have smoked before, but it’s just not for me. I prefer a beer. I do, however, drink Sweetwater 420 sometimes. I started drinking it because of the name and then I ended up liking it. Plus, no one else likes it, so no one will touch it. I hear a lot of people smoke to get rid of anxiety, but it just makes me more anxious.

Anyway, so I really am sick, it’s not just allergies in case anyone reading was holding their breath for this post. I know, my life is just so intriguing. Haha. I woke up at 5am today and worked for 9 hours. It was cool because the day ended a lot faster, but when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t even swallow. *insert dirty joke here* I figured I’d power through because there’s worse that could happen, right? I’m not the type to call out just because I’m not feeling well. If I call out of work, it’s because I physically cannot be there. At my last job, I think I called out 3 times in the 3 years I worked there. Twice were food poisoning and once for a family emergency. I had never had food poisoning before and I got it twice within, I think, 1 or 2 years. It is absolutely awful and I don’t wish the pain on anyone. Another thing I don’t do is go to the doctor or emergency room all of the time, rarely do I go and it better be because I’m dying or I can’t stop the bleeding. Per my mom’s instruction throughout the years. I went to the E.R. like 2 years ago because I had something called G.E.R.D. which I never even knew existed. I was up in Georgia with my fiancée and we had drank the night before, so we were a little hungover. We decided to go find a Five Guys Burgers & Fries which was like 45 minutes away, but it seemed fun to go on a mini road trip. While I was getting ready, my mom called and told me my step-grandfather had passed away that morning from cancer. We all knew it was coming, but I guess it hit me harder than I thought it would. We started driving to Five Guys and my stomach started to hurt. I thought maybe it was motion sickness because that always happens when I get in the back seat or ride in a car for a while. When we got to Five Guys, I went to use the restroom because I thought maybe it’s just the hangover. I made myself get sick, I pooped, I tried everything and I ended up clogging the toilet which was super fucking embarrassing since we hadn’t even eaten yet. The employee who brought the plunger was like, “are you okay?” And I was like, “yeah, just super embarrassed.” It was awful. Still, I didn’t feel any better, I felt worse. I was in a “YOLO, fuck it” kind of mood and I proceeded to order my burger and eat which was good, but I felt even worse. Usually, when I have a hangover, I eat a big greasy burger to try to soak up the alcohol. Depending on how much I drank. So, we start heading home and my stomach is tied up in a knot. It was up at the top and I literally felt like I was going to need surgery. I was in tears, I couldn’t get comfortable, it was the worst pain (almost) that I’ve ever felt. We get back to the house and my fiancée puts pillows under my legs, nothing. Rubs my stomach, nothing. Gets me a glass of water, nothing. They had been asking me if I wanted to go to the E.R. but I was trying to tough it out. Finally, I gave in and we went to this really nice hospital that looked like they weren’t even open but we went in anyway. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. I was hunched over in the chair, crying, and I didn’t know what was happening to my body. They bring me back and give me this concoction made from the gods. I have no idea what was in it, but it instantly untangled the knot and I felt like walking right out of there. It was fantastic. The doctor had a crush on me, I guess, but mildly (?) accused me of being an alcoholic because apparently I drink more than normal people. I said I drink casually and that was met with the response, “some people do heroin casually, too.” Because obviously those two go hand in hand. Silly me. I felt my face involuntarily twist into a WTF look almost immediately after I realized what was just said and that was the end of that. I didn’t feel so comfortable anymore.

I know I bounce around topics a lot, but I truly think they’re going to be interesting when I start them and when they’re not, leave them anyway. Honestly, I sometimes think that maybe someday, someone will find my blog or my journal and read about me and be genuinely interested in every little detail about me, even the bad stuff. I know my fiancée is, but she doesn’t count.

When I got home from work earlier, I decided to install the nesting boxes for my chickens and a bar for them on top.

It’s still a work in progress, but they’re screwed into the wood behind them. I have those things under them because I still need to put up a few more things so they don’t fall. They snapped their old roosting bar because they’re my little fatties, so I made this one from PVC pipe with duct tape around it for grip.

I’m starting to run a fever and get body aches, so I’m going to go ahead and wrap this up. Should I put a disclaimer for all the shit I just wrote? Is that necessary?

Disclaimer: I am not by any means condoning or suggesting drinking or smoking or whatever you just read. I’m simply relaying my life story.

Not much to share today, I think I’m either catching a cold or my allergies are acting up. I’ve had a sore throat and I’ve been sneezing all day. I’m supposed to take allergy medication, but I never could keep up with pills. When I was younger, I was on depression medication and I didn’t remember to take it every day, so sometimes I would get really depressed. It ended up being too much of a hassle and I realized that the pills that were designed to make me feel better, actually made me feel worse. I would have really good days in a row, then I’d have a really bad day. When I say bad, I mean bad. It was as if the bad was sucked out of all my days and injected into one. I ended up quitting them cold turkey. My method was to write down a list of things that I could do alone that brightened my mood. This list is my “Feel Good” list. My biggest problem was relying on talking to other people and when those people weren’t there, I was left in the dark and then I would end up cutting myself. I started when I was 13 and it went on until I was about 16 or 17. I never did it bad enough to kill myself because I always had that thought of my mom, my little sister, or my little brother finding my body and that’s what kept me from going all the way. I’ve thought about running my car off of the road over stupid little shit. One night, I tried to OD on some of my old medication for sleeping, but I ended up waking up. I wrote down how many I took on the bottle just in case anyone found me and needed to know. I was a coward for that, but it didn’t work anyway. I ended up waking up around 4 or 5 in the afternoon and went to run errands with my grandmother like nothing happened. I haven’t done anything like that in years though and looking back on it, I wish I could go back and tell myself its not worth the scars. I guess they remind me of how ridiculous it was for me to mutilate my body over the words of other people. I’ve been called basically every name in the book, which hurt the first time around, but by the second, third, fourth, etc. time, I was used to it and I started to call myself the names before they could. Take away the power, the punchline. I learned the language of the verbal wars and how to fight them.

Anyway, enough of that, I don’t know why or how I got on that topic from allergies. I’ll still post it, because the point of a blog is to be an open book, I suppose. I’m an open book anyway in hopes that my struggles, stupidity, and pain will maybe help someone in the future. I’m not going to say it gets easier, you just get stronger, so it does get better. It just takes time. The stronger you get, the less anything or anyone can touch you. Screw the world, be happy, and above all, love yourself before anyone else. It might just save yours or someone else’s life one day.

I gotta keep it short and sweet because I have to be up by 5am tomorrow, so that’s it for tonight! Toodles! 🙂

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